Shiro wiped the last bit of dust from the desk and placed the cloth back in the cleaning bucket. The sun outside had already dipped, and the soft orange glow that remained made everything feel calm and a little lonely. The hallways were empty now, so quiet that each of his steps echoed faintly, bouncing off the walls like the sound belonged to someone else.
It had been a long day. Not terrible, just long. Cleaning duty wasn't something he enjoyed, but it grounded him. It kept his thoughts organized and stopped his mind from drifting too far into overthinking. With a small sigh, he closed the classroom door behind him. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the stiffness in his back.
Alright… home time, he thought, letting a small smile tug at his lips.
He took one step into the empty hallway—
—and a sudden pain stabbed deep into his skull.
It wasn't normal pain. Not a headache, not dizziness. It felt like something sharp had been shoved straight into the center of his mind. Shiro gasped, his legs shaking. His hand slammed against the wall for support as his vision blurred into streaks of color and shadow. The hallway twisted like a warped painting.
He tried to steady his breathing, but each inhale was shaky and uneven.
The pain grew stronger.
Then, without warning, everything burst open.
Memories — dozens, hundreds, too many — crashed into him all at once.
Faces he knew but shouldn't. Places he recognized even though he had never seen them in this life. His childhood from another world. His friends. His fears. His mistakes. His death.
All of it slammed into him so hard he couldn't even scream.
Shiro's eyes rolled back as darkness wrapped around him, swallowing his body whole.
—
His senses returned slowly.
The first thing he felt was cold.
Not the cold of winter or metal, but a deep, still cold like water left untouched for years. His fingers twitched against a smooth surface that rippled at his touch.
Shiro pushed himself up, blinking hard until the blur faded from his sight.
Then his heart almost stopped.
He was no longer in the school.
The world around him was… wrong. Broken.
He was surrounded by walls made of shattered mirrors. Each shard was floating slightly away from the others, as if held in place by invisible threads. They reflected pieces of him — an arm here, an eye there — but none of the reflections matched. Some moved slower than him, others faster. Some were smiling while he stood still. Some looked terrified.
It felt like the mirrors were watching him.
The floor beneath him was a perfectly flat layer of black water, so dark it almost looked solid. Yet it rippled under his weight, cold and alive. The ceiling above him was the same. Water above, water below, mirrors all around.
Shiro swallowed hard, forcing his rising fear down.
This is not an illusion… it feels too real.
His cautious nature took over. He turned slowly in a full circle, observing every detail. The air was completely still — not a single breeze. There was no smell, no sound. Even his breathing felt too loud.
There was no doorway. No walls leading anywhere.
Just an endless "room" that felt like the inside of someone's mind… or a nightmare given shape.
Then the water moved.
A single strand of long, black hair slid out from beneath the surface, smooth and silent like a snake. It curled upward and wrapped around his ankle before he could even step back.
Shiro sucked in a breath. "What—?!"
The hair tightened instantly and pulled.
He fell forward, his hands splashing into the cold water as more strands shot out. They wrapped around his legs, his waist, his arms, dragging him down with impossible strength. Every time he tried to pull free, the hair pulled harder.
The water rose up his body, slow but relentless.
Cold climbed his spine, sinking deep into his bones.
It felt like he was being swallowed.
His heart pounded at his ribs, but his thoughts stayed sharp.
Don't panic. Think. Find a way out.
But the more he struggled, the faster he sank.
The water reached his chest.
Then his neck.
Then—
A warm pressure broke open inside his core.
A spark. A pulse. A flame.
Then—
FWOOOM.
Black-blue flames exploded outward, wrapping around his body like protective armor. The flames didn't burn him. They felt like part of him, like they had always been there, waiting for a reason to wake up.
Every strand of hair ignited into silent blue fire and turned to ash that floated away like dust in the wind.
The water recoiled from him violently, sending ripples in every direction.
Shiro collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath.
But before he could even steady himself, another wave of something hit him.
Not pain—memory.
Clearer than before.
He was standing in a blank white space, endless and silent. In front of him floated a being whose shape shifted every time he tried to look at it directly. It felt divine yet empty, powerful yet emotionless. A god that didn't behave like a god.
It told him he had two wishes.
He remembered himself asking for more, half joking. Rejected.
He asked to become a god.
Rejected again — his soul was too weak.
So he changed his wish.
Travel between worlds.
Accepted, but random.
His second wish — Rimuru's powers. Denied at full strength, accepted at pre–True Demon Lord level.
Then the Heavenly Star Palace appeared — his world, his base. A calm, beautiful place with glowing fields, clean air, and a white castle at its center. A world outside the multiverse, yet touching all of them.
He remembered trying to open a gate to explore another world and almost stepping through until the warning froze him mid-step:
Enter with your full self, and the world will see you as a foreign invader.
Fates awaiting him:
Cursed luck.
Constant disasters.
Hunted by world guardians.
The Palace AI offered a solution:
Travel using a fragment of his soul. Possess a body from that world. Slowly merge with it. Slowly become accepted.
Dangerous, but possible.
The memories faded like smoke.
Shiro lifted his head.
The water around him was stirring again.
More hair spread outward like cracks in the surface.
Not this time.
His eyes hardened. He raised his hand, sparks of black-blue lightning dancing across his fingers.
He whispered, "Burn."
Black Flame Thunder roared outward in a huge wave, lighting the entire mirrored world in bright blue fire.
The hair turned to dust.
The water went still.
And Shiro stood alone, breath heavy, flames fading slowly from his skin.